Page 71 of The Darkness Within Us

Alessandra looks radiant as she stands and appraises her people. She looks genuinely happy, as though she has everything she’s ever wanted.

And then, through the clamor of clapping hands, whistles, and shouts, her eyes land on me.

I know what the Chrysantha of the past would do. She’d turn up her nose and look away. By seeming superior, I’ve ensured that Alessandra never pays too close of attention to me. She was the one I most worried about learning my true nature. A part of me still wants to treat her that way. The petty side of me that still cannot fathom how she managed to snag a king while I labored night and day to secure a match with a slimy, handsy duke.

But as I truly look at her for the first time in years, I realize I don’t have to be that girl anymore. Playing the simpleton doesn’t gain me anything anymore. As a dowager, I am in control of my life for the first time, and I’m just one person away from having everything I’ve ever wanted. Now I’m about to potentially use my sister and her husband to get it.

So I incline my head toward Alessandra. A sign of respect, and even a congratulatory nod.

Her eyes widen for a single beat. Then she composes herself and looks to her husband. The two of them lead the way out of the throne room and into the ballroom, where we’re all to enjoy refreshments and dancing.

Row by row we’re asked to join the queen and king for the celebratory ball. I watch as dukes, marquises, earls, viscounts, and their guests all stroll by in a self-righteous procession. No one bothers to glance toward the barons and other lesser nobility in the back as they precede us from the room.

When it’s finally our turn, Eryx takes my arm once more. I can hear a full orchestra playing from the open doors to the ballroom. A herald announces the guests one by one before they’re allowed entrance. Eryx and I wait our turn.

“Lovely ceremony,” he says.

I make a sound that doesn’t really pass for agreement or disagreement.

“You didn’t think so?” he asks.

“It was fine.”

“If it wasn’t the ceremony, then what was it? Do you not like the choice your sister’s made? Do you think she should have held out for someone better than theking?”

“I don’t really care what choices she makes.” I did once. Her choice drove me to murder. But being here and seeing her again are giving me some clarity. I thought we were competitors, that by playing the same game only one of us could win.

But perhaps the truth is more complicated than that. We always wanted different things. It doesn’t have to be her or me. While it hurts to see her in such a position of power and respect while I’m still working so damn hard for my happy ending, it doesn’t mean that I should blame her. No, the blame rests solely upon the shoulders of the men who drove us to make the choices we did.

When we finally reach the front of the line, we give our names to the herald.

“Their Graces, Eryx Demos, the Duke of Pholios, and Chrysantha Demos, the dowager duchess.”

Heads turn, even those belonging to couples already dancing. I give a cursory glance over the crowd as we enter the room. Many faces stand out, those of my would-be admirers who sent me letters, and I glance right over the tops of them before we can make eye contact. I don’t have any desire to inadvertently encourage them. The men of the nobility have enough audacity as it is.

When I finally manage to block out all the men ogling me, I realize something that I hadn’t taken into consideration before.

Eryx is young, rich, and unwed. That alone would cause a stir at any public event. Add to it all the fact that he’s dangerously attractive, and it’s a nightmare.

Now that Kallias Maheras is wed, Eryx Demos is the most eligible bachelor in the world.

Ladies and their mothers are practically frothing at the mouth at the sight of Eryx. And when they finally compose themselves enough to shut their gaping jaws, they jostle one another to be the first to approach.

“Your Grace, won’t you please introduce us to the duke?”

“Of course, Lady Petrakis,” I say. “This is the Duke of Pholios. Your Grace, this is Marchioness Petrakis and her daughters, Lady Violetta and Lady Evadne.”

The two young women curtsy opulently, then look up at the duke through their lashes in the most obviously flirtatious way. Eryx bows grandly in return. I’m almost proud of the gesture, for it is one I made him practice at least a hundred times.

“Lovely to meet you. I’m terribly sorry, but you must excuse us. The king and queen are expecting us.”

No, they’re not, but I don’t ruin his lie. I find a bad taste in the back of my throat at the way ladies are stepping over one another’s skirts to get closer to Eryx. I’ve no desire to stick around.

“Of course,” the marchioness says, “but I hope you will come seek us out again before the night is through.”

Eryx looks like he wants to grit his teeth, but he keeps his smile in place. “We shall do our best, but I’m afraid we’ve already made many promises tonight. As a gentleman, I wouldn’t dream of making another one unless I was absolutely certain I could keep it.”

One of the daughters sighs at his response. I close my eyes to hide their rolling.

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